Correctional Events
by ookami-metsuki
Summary: Kids with criminal records have been selected for a special program constructed by the Winner's Circle Ranch, owned by Quatre's aunt and uncle. Duo Maxwell and Trowa Barton, each there for their own reasons, are soon caught up in the program that, with th
1. Don't Give a Flying Fuck

Warnings: Eventual pairings of 1x2, 3x4 and a few OC pairings (but we're not going to pay much attention to that) Language might be a bit extreme at times, but I figure you guys can handle it. I'm not much on lemons or limes, at least in writing them, so the citrus, if any, will be on a low. Alternate Universe, a bit of OOC. Besides the briskness of this, please note I try to be a nice person that appreciates constructive criticism, moral building reviews, and hints and interesting bits of information that will contribute to the making of this fiction. Thank you, readers, your time is much appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or anything of the like. You know this, so do me a favor and shove that suing business up yours.

This is short because it is the prologue. I plan for future chapters to be longer. Enjoy.

Don't Give a Flyin' Fuck

Let me tell you about what I've gotten myself into. I have to tell you, it's whack. I was sitting in Juvy, yes, Juvy, and I get pulled out of my room- ha, my room. Try cell- by one of the guards. The guy is picking at random, it looks like, stopping every once and a while and pulling out a kid from another room. I'm not paying much attention, I haven't paid much attention since I was sent to this place. Life sucks, what can you do? Anyways, the prison guard, don't give me the "detention center" shit, this is a prison for kids, stop tryin' to pretty it up- the prison guard takes us all, all eleven of us to the office for the 'head-deputy'-like person. Don't remember his name, we always call him Deputy Dog. Moving on, there's this woman in there, and "Deputy Dog" is nowhere in sight. Our prison guard tells us to line up, present ourselves. Most of us don't bother, we slouch, we glare, we're the scum of the earth, why 'present ourselves?' So this woman just stares at us. She looks like she's checkin' each one of us out, so much that I wonder if they've decided to allow whores into the Juvy Centers. That idea didn't have much merit, I mean, we were minors, and I was as gay as a lark, and I know that tall kid with the funky hair over there was here because he assaulted his assaulters 'cause they thought scarin' the shit outta him would make him straight. Humph. Great citizens of the country there, a real contribution to society. Bullshit. She's lookin' at us so hard that I decide I can do the same. If this was some intimidation thing, she was about to find out it doesn't work with Duo Maxwell. She was tall, wore clothes that my orphanage never would have been able to afford, things that Sister Maxwell dreamed about being able to buy us kids before the church burned down. She had spiky grey-white hair, which accented her amber eyes that reminded me a lot of a cat sizing up her prey peered intensely at us all. Hey, I'm a pretty aesthetic guy, even if my tastes do run around the color black. This woman points at one guy, then jerks her thumb towards the door. After about ten minutes, she's repeated the gesture five times and there's six of us left. Me and banged-man over there included.

This woman is proud, stiff. She walks to the front and center of us, regards us all with those cat-eyes of hers, then starts to tell us that, whether we gave a flying fuck or not, she was here to give us a second chance on life (second? Try third, fourth, or fifth. In fact, I've had so many chances on life, I wonder if I'll ever die.). She owned a well-to-do horse racing business, and had cleared the way so that our poor souls could work with them. We're to be sent there in a week. Then some guy starts noising about how he didn't need her goddamned charity and she could go shove it up her fucking ass. And this is where she got cool. She sighed "I don't do much 'fucking' anymore, and hardly ever in the ass. But since you feel that way, I suppose you can stay here." The prison guard gets up, disappears with the shocked idiot.

By now, we're pretty uncomfortable. This woman looks like poisonous. If she decided to bite, I'm sure the one she bit wouldn't survive. To the immense relief of the trembling wimp beside me, the guard returns. I have to say, I was pretty relieved myself. Anyways, she turns to us now, and says "if no one else objects, you five are going to work with me for a year. Of course, if a choice few of you perform, and work well within our program, you might be able to stay with us longer. As it is, I need to know your names. After all, I expect we're going to be going through a proverbial hell together."

She left soon after, she didn't talk forever like most of these 'good-hearted' people did. I guess that's why I liked her, she didn't go on about how grateful we should be, or what a taxation we would be on her life. She seemed smart enough to realize we 'didn't give a flying fuck' about it.

Little did we know, but that kinda thinking was about to change- as were we, but, hey man, I'm not gonna go ruin perfectly good story for your benefit. You'll just have to wait and see.


	2. Wild Boy, Frisky Filly, and a Pink Monst...

Warnings: Eventual pairings of 1x2, 3x4 and a few OC pairings (but we're not going to pay much attention to that) Language might be a bit extreme at times, but I figure you guys can handle it. I'm not much on lemons or limes, at least in writing them, so the citrus, if any, will be on a low. Alternate Universe, a bit of OOC. Besides the briskness of this, please note I try to be a nice person that appreciates constructive criticism, moral building reviews, and hints and interesting bits of information that will contribute to the making of this fiction. Thank you, readers, your time is much appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, I do own some clothes, some shoes, a few pieces of jewelry, and a miniature library. But I do not own Gundam Wing. Or any thereof.

I'm back. The chapter _is_ longer, not by much, but it is longer. I'm so glad to hear some of you enjoyed the first chapter. I will be switching points of view. You get Trowa and Duo and 'god' in this one. As usual, read, review, and, most importantly, _enjoy._

Wild Boy, Frisky Filly, and a Pink Monster

The place was nice, I have to admit. But what do you expect from a multi-billionaire? Especially one that deals with as meticulous animals such as race horses. Not that the animals themselves were meticulous, they'd roll in the mud as happily as anyone else.

White fences sectioned off vast amounts of land, I'm not sure how large this place is- slender-legged thoroughbreds dotted the green pastures. I've always loved animals. With an alcoholic, abusive father and a bitter, verbally abusive mother, the animals in our neighborhood were the only living things I could trust to have a good heart. I could never see myself going anywhere, even if you did well in school, college and college preparation cost money, and money was one of many things my parents were not going to waste on this worthless boy. When they died in a car crash, I was thirteen, and, truthfully, glad to escape the impoverished trap they had me in. I was sent to live with the Blooms, a kind-hearted family who helped repair a little of the damage caused by my early life. They gave me a name. Before then, I had been 'boy' when my parents were at their most amiable, and to teachers and peers, I was Barton, because 'boy' was not a name, even if that was what my mother had me in the register as. Catherine Bloom was two years my senior, and insisted on mothering me.

She was the one to present the idea of changing my name to Trowa. Her mother agreed, once I had, saying everyone had a right to a name, had right to something to hold in respect on one's self. She gave me something to be proud of, other than a name.

She worked at a circus, throwing knives and tightrope walking. I had come with her the first time, and while she was talking to the ringmaster, I had wandered away to look at the animals. The lions entranced me. Even in cages, they were majestic animals. I wasn't thinking when I stuck my hand in the cage, I just knew I had nothing to fear from these overgrown cats. From that day on I was Catherine's assistant and lion tamer. I was suited to the task. The beatings I'd endured as a child had taught me to keep quiet and how to remain unobtrusive. I never spoke unless directly spoken too, never volunteered information. It worked for me now, and I had nothing to fear. Life was going well. I'd even learned to play an instrument, the flute.

Then school started, and the cascade of events that brought me here happened with it.

But, for better or worse, I'm here. I might as well make the best of it.

)#)&)#)&)#))#&)&)#&)&)()!&)&)#&)#)!)&)#!&)#&)!&)

The day of March 28th was the day the new rehabilitation project for criminal youths actually started, beginning with five individual youths. Those five youths were currently making their way to the stables where their new keeper Victoria Winner waited to begin a new chapter in their lives.

Veronica leaned against a stall, talking with her nephew, Quatre, and one of her employees, Gina Taro. The former of the two was a blonde-haired angel, with aqua-marine eyes and a deceiving pampered look about him. The boy had grown up under a ruthless business man as a father, and had been through enough in his life to claim a backbone. It showed in those eyes. Gina wasn't as remarkable, not in appearance. She had light gray eyes, shoulder-length black hair, and a slender build. Both were about the same height. No one knew much about her, she'd showed up one day, was hired.

The three were presently engrossed in a discussion about the new wards.

"What are their names again?" Quatre asked quietly, watching as a groom moved in and out of stalls.

"Quatre," came the exasperated voice of Gina. "We've gone over it over and over again! James Johnson; goes by Cal, age sixteen. Drug abuser. Been through rehab, now he just has to carry out the rest of his sentence. Michael "Mikey" Rotesque, age sixteen. Repeated theft charges. Trowa Barton, no nickname, age sixteen, assault. Roger Gonzales, no nickname. Age sixteen. Also assault, on top of drug and alcohol abuse. Duo Maxwell, says he's called "Shinigami." (the three ignored the snort from Heero the nickname had produced.) Age sixteen, former theft charges, assault landed him in the detention center." Gina recited.

The other two blinked at her. "Gina? That memory of yours is a little scary at times." Victoria said.

The younger woman shrugged. "but its useful, so you'll excuse me if I don't chuck it for your esteemed comfort."

Quatre sniffed. "It was only once, for your information." He stuck his tongue out at Gina in a childish gesture of pettiness, then smiled.

Gina sent a quick smile his way before turning back to the owner. "what were you saying about Duo, Tori?"

"Oh, yes. He was on the streets until the age of five, put in a church orphanage once he was caught stealing. You're familiar with the Maxwell Church Tragedy? He was the lone survivor. Apparently he'd been a bright, joyful boy, a little on the mischievous side. He was sent to the Cromwell Orphanage at age eleven. Previously an open, cheerful child, upon the assault he withdrew. He did nothing to defend himself at the trial, and so was found guilty.

"The same was so for Trowa Barton. Lived with abusive and alcoholic father, abusive mother. He was thirteen when they died in a car crash, and sent to live with the Bloom family. Worked as a tightrope walker, assistant to knife thrower, lion "tamer," as well as keeper of animals. Not know to talk unless asked a direct question-"

A flurry of offensive color caught Gina's eye, and she turned her head to watch Relena Peacecraft, their best paying boarder, attempt to mount her filly, PinkWings. "Attempt" being the word. The girl was a bimbo. Daddy's little angel, spoiled beyond belief, she was a thorn in the collective ass of the working staff of Winner's Circle Ranch, whether they were lowly grooms and stable hands, exercise worker, or jockey. Trainers made themselves scarce, and no one could watch her doing what she called 'riding.'

A quirk of amusement flashed on her face when she noticed the boy, Heero was his name, dash into a stall. As much of a pain the girl was to the rest of the staff, Heero had a curse on him that attracted the pink rat on extreme levels. That curse was extraordinary good looks, burning Prussian blue eyes, muscular figure on mid to tall body, wild, untamable chocolate brown hair, accompanied with an "ice couldn't match me" cold detachment, he was, in every sense of the word, untouchable. Just the catch for a girl who was rumored to have every well-to-do boy at her school hanging off her every word, twirled around her pretty, manicured fingers.

__

Quatre and Tori turned to see what had caught the grey-eyed woman's attention. A frown crossed Tori's face briefly before smoothing out into a neutral mask. The filly was getting more and more agitated as Relena fussed at trying to mount her. Tori knew the girl could at least mount a horse properly, she'd made sure of that when she'd allowed her privileges to her facilities. She was convinced the girl had seen Heero and was trying to get him to come help her up on the horse. Which, if he was the doting stable boy she seemed to think he was, he would have. As it was…

Victoria sighed. Quatre was thinking rather hard to find a tactful way of telling Relena if she didn't quit playing "maiden in need of help" her horse would bolt. So caught up in the unfolding of the drama, they didn't notice the five miscreant adolescents arrive.

PinkWings- really, that is a ridiculous name for a horse- had had enough. With shrill whinny she plunged forward, ripping out of the startled bimbo's grip. They heard yells of warnings and curses of the staff as she tore out of the barn.

"Jesus Christ!" Gina exploded, massaging her temples. Duo smirked at the annoyance in her voice and expression. He saw the lady who'd come talk to them sigh and repeat the gesture. She glanced behind her, and noticed them. Another flash of annoyance flickered across her face.

"Gina, could you go retrieve Pink? I'd really appreciate it."

Gina growled and turned to Victoria. "That horse could almost have a place in my stables, as much as she's been put through."

Tori smirked. "Don't think I haven't thought of it. You wouldn't have the grace to refrain from telling the Prime Minister's daughter her riding sucks and her treatment of her horse is atrocious."

"Hey, if being without grace or tact means I can tell it how it is without trying to pretty it up the truth, I'm just fine being graceless and tactless." Gina called over her shoulder as she jogged out of the barn, following the renegade horse.

Victoria sighed and turned to face her charges. _Give me strength, give me patience. _She thought tiredly. _At the very least, can I ask for a sharp, pointy stick?_

)#)&)#)&)#))#&)&)#&)&)()!&)&)#&)#)!)&)#!&)#&)!&)

I figured I'd be bored unless I found a way to amuse myself. Now it looks like there's gonna be plenty to amuse me. Gina, at least, looked as if she was going to be fun. The cat lady, Victoria, as she introduced herself, had been almost palpably annoyed when she'd started to talk to us. She'd gotten so far as too introduce herself and welcome us to, and she'd smirked when she'd said this, her humble abode. Then that pink monster (I mean, seriously, pink riding pants, light blue shirt, and a pink jacket? Not to mention all the bows and accessories. Grotesque. And do I mean grotesque.) had jumped up and strode up to Victoria. She'd started making this raucous noise, apparently miffed that no one even asked if she was alright. Victoria had glanced at her and said in a coldly indifferent voice "obviously you are okay. Go tend to your horse, Miss Peacecraft. This time, do it right."

The girl had stomped off, and man, was I having a hard time not laughing. Little bitch.

The blond angel that had been quietly observing the entire time, turned to a wall of stalls and said to someone I couldn't see "it's alright, Heero, she's gone." The most gorgeous guy I've ever seen materialized in front of me. Hot damn! Our eyes met for a moment then he nodded to the blond and walked off. This rehabilitation thing was sounding better and better.

Presently, Victoria decides she can start talking again. "Alright, boys, let me introduce my nephew, Quatre, he's here for the summer to help me out. Quatre, these are the boys. They're going to be working their asses off, so don't hesitate tell them so if you see them doing something wrong. They need to know." I had a feeling this was said for our benefit, Quatre knew this long before we did. Smart move, if you ask me. Not only do we know he's the owner's, and our keeper's nephew, we also knew he was supposed to tell us what to do. Wonderful. "Now, I'm going to wait to tour our facilities when Gina gets back, but there's no reason I can't introduce our broodmares to you. This is there barn. For those of you who aren't familiar with the term, broodmares are our horses that are mated with prestigious stallions. The reproduce what we hope to be future winners, all foals born here are prepped to go into the racing career." She walked through us, making a motion that meant we were to follow her. Stopping at the first stall on the right, she opened the top portion of the stall door.

"This is Belle, Papa's Belle. You'll find in the racing business, horses have ridiculous names. Like bands, we're running out of them. You'll have to bare with us. The cute little colt over there is Charger. Over here we have Red-Hot Cinnamon, and her filly, Cinnamon Flame. This is Queen Marie. One of the stable hands named her after the French queen, Marie Antoinette, because this is one of the most vain horses that ever walked the earth." Ha, just how is a horse vain? She was still pregnant, her sides bulging. I always knew horse nuts were crazy. Like that old woman that lived on the same block of my old school. They're all crazy.

Victoria went through introducing us to the, what had she called them? 'Broodmares?' That's the one. By the time she'd reached the last horse, the black haired lady had reappeared with the runaway horse. The horse was tossing her head, taking high steps with those unnaturally long legs. She half reared, throwing her head up and trying to jerk the rope out of the woman's hands.

"None of that." The woman gave a quick, hard jerk and the horse dropped back down to four feet. The horse almost looked confused. The pink monster was suddenly there.

"What took you so long? How dare you treat my horse like that!"

The woman leveled a baleful glare at the girl. "Next time keep hold of your horse. Go walk her. Thirty minutes, nothing less. Then take off her tack and brush her."

The girl swelled. "That's a groom's job!"

"Miss Peacecraft, you are boarding your horse here. This is not your stable, and these grooms are not your employees. They were not hired to take care of a horse some stupid chit of a girl cannot handle. Walk her, take of her tack, and groom her. Then take her to a pasture. She deserves to relax."

Peacecraft looked like she was about to explode. Then she looked at us. "Why don't you make one of them do it. They need to learn how to anyway."

Victoria cut off whatever the black-haired woman was about to say. "Relena. Do what your told."

Relena snatched at the rope. The horse threw up her head, looking like she was about to rear again. The woman grabbed the thing around the horse's head and jerked again. "Behave." Then she stepped back and watched Relena lead the horse away. "She's going to kill that animal."

Victoria seemed to ignore her. "Boys, this is Gina Taro. She's also going to be helping you learn the ropes."

Gina gave a grin that a wolf would have been proud of. "Alright, boyos, it's time for the grand tour. You have a month to learn enough to make you efficient in grooming horses and mucking stalls. You'll be in charge of one of our retired racers for the first month. Failure to do what we ask and require you to do will result in punishment. It's old style here. You clean tack. You're assigned more stalls than anyone else. If not cleaned to our satisfaction, you will do it again." She regarded each of them with a happy smile. "If you absolutely refuse to behave, you get a day with me." It was a threat, I just didn't know what kinda threat it was.

"First thing you learn." She pointed in one of the stalls. "That cute little thing over there? That's a female baby. Baby's in general are called foals. Female foals are fillies. This one here? That one's a boy. He's a colt. This is some of the terminology you are required to know."

She, Victoria, and Quatre started walking out of the barn, and we followed. Gina talked the entire time, pointing out things of interest. We saw the training track, and the horses being run on it. I don't know how the riders sat on the horses like that, but it look like it took a lot of work. She showed us pastures, pointed out different horses, explained what certain people were doing. She pointed out a grumpy looking man talking to a boy.

"That old man over there? That's our head trainer. His name is Cisco, and he's the main reason you'll probably not be working with our racers. Stay out of his way. He looks grumpy, and he is. It's not worth your life to annoy him."

"So, he'd kill us?" I think that was Roger.

Gina snorted. "I don't know. I personally try to stay out of the old man's way. If you want to find out, be my guest. I'm not taking responsibility for you." She started walking again, still talking, now and then Victoria would offer a comment. Not that I remember much of it. There's too much. Who would have thought there'd be so much to horses? The only thing I remember about horses before this was something I learned in History. Apparently some historic queen fucked one. Hey! It's not something you hear everyday, of course its going to stick in your mind! We go into yet another barn, and promptly jump when a horse to our left rears and bugles.

"This is where we keep out stallions. Some of the boys can be pretty nasty, like that jack ass there. You won't be in here. These boys will take a chunk out of you if they can, kick you, trample you. They've been known to drag people over the stall portion to get to them. Now, let's move on. Its time to show you where you'll be staying."

They led us towards the track again, going around it towards a huge house facing the track and main cluster of barns. There were smaller houses to the left and right of the big house. Gina explained most of the staff lived on the property. Horses were a full time job. There were two smallish houses right next to the big one. Victoria pointed to the first one, then at me and the tall guy. "You two will be staying here. You other three are in that house. Your stuff is already there. You have two hours to do what you will before we have lunch in that house. Have fun."


End file.
